The ad hoc float builders and costume makers had combined wince-producing puns based on economic nomenclature with a papier-mache vision of human sexuality that would get them slapped in jail in other less libertine towns, all in an effort to exorcise current mercantile anxieties, and, of course, have a rambling street party while doing so.

Here's to you, drunken young man. You were absolutely right. Now, that's art. What a blessing to live in a city where creative outrageousness parades nonchalantly through the streets. Why would an artist live anywhere else?